Well, I'm no longer a dog. I'm a Furby. It's a bit more meaningful then dog was and I feel a tighter connection with this particular 'sona. The 90's were a dark period for me. I spent most of the decade with crippling depression and anxiety and a father who refused to allow my mother to get me help. I started collecting Furbys in 99 and for some reason they helped me improve. I started feeling happy again for the first time in years. I don't know what it is about them I connect so well with. I just know I do. Unfortunately when I finally got on medication I felt I didn't need my Furbys anymore so I sold them, an action I quickly regretted.

In 2012 I spent several months living in a hospital room with my mom watching her slowly die from cancer. She died on July 16, a day before my birthday. My mom was the only human being I was really close to. When she died I didn't want to go on. I began planning to commit suicide. I thought I'd never be happy again. But then I found out Furby was coming out again. I decided to postpone my suicide until the release. I figured Furby helped me through a bad place once maybe it could do so again.

So in September of that year I found myself in the toy aisle at Wal Mart picking out a solid black Furby. And for the first time in months I felt happy again. That Furby was the start of a new collection that now stands at 22 Furbys. It's a silly thing but it makes me happy. It's the only thing that does.

So Furby helped me out of a very dark place twice in my life. And that's why my Fursona is a Furby.

You humans need to refine, alter, corral codify and measure things yes? Very well. I shall use your wristwatch to count out ten of your seconds. I suggest you use that time to run. For at the end of it I shall come for you and I will catch you and we shall measure the duration of your death... In screams.